Thursday, March 6, 2014

16 Things I Learned About Myanmar on my First Day Here

The plane crossed the
Thai-Myanmar border somewhere north of the Isthmus of Kra. Looking
out my window seat from 6000 meters, I saw a brown, dry, parched
land. Riverbeds were dry. Acre upon acre of what looked like rice
paddy lay fallow and dead. These were my first impressions of
Myanmar.

As we approached Yangon, river
deltas appeared, and the brown of the slow moving waters replaced the
browns of dormant agriculture. Bits of green began popping up here
and there. Irrigation was working. See, it is the height of the dry
season here in this part of Southeast Asia. It hasn't rained in
Bangkok in months and I'm sure the same conditions apply here... but
it was so visible from up above.

Yangon Airport itself was
surrounded by green, and not much else. I had just flown out from
Suvarnabumi International, Bangkok's glittering brand new airport and
as fine, big and modern as any airport I've been in in my life.
Yangon Airport was a single terminal. There were four other planes
on the tarmac when mine landed. In America, it was the kind of
airport you might see servicing a small city of 200,000 or so. A
Reno. A Sioux Falls. A Lexington. Yangon has somewhere between 2
and 3 million people (no one is quite sure as there hasn't been a
census here in 31 years).

Mind you, I'm not complaining
about this dinkiness. I found it quaint.

What did I know about Burma?
Myanmar? Not much. In my adult lifetime, the country has been
closed, known for its dictatorship. It's been a 'rogue state', doing
things their way and not giving a hoot about the rest of the
international community. I was thinking my attempt to get a visa on
arrival might end up like something out of the movie 'Argo'.

Far from it. I breezed through
immigration and customs. There were no lines. I was one of the last
from my flight to pass through the check points, and the ladies
sitting at their stations (there were plenty) were already beginning
to sit idly or gossip with the lady at the next check point. It
might be a while before the next international flight arrives.

My first real sensory experience
of Myanmar was the odor, the smell,
the fragrance. Even domestically, one thing you'll notice
coming out the sterilized environment of an airplane into a new place
is a difference in the air. Myanmar smells Indian. I've never been
to India, but I know that fragrance from Indian restaurants. I've
also had many encounters with Indian people who themselves exude this
particular scent. It is by no means an unpleasant scent. It doesn't
stink. It is very distinctive, however, and here, it is everywhere.
It's like a mix or turmeric, curry and patchoulli, but like none of
them individually. In any case, I'm sure I'll simply get used to it
after a while and stop even noticing it. I took a shower just now at
the end of my first day. Smelling my pits, yup, I'm already starting
to smell that way too. Now this blog is at risk of
becoming far too rambling if I explore each of my observations in
detail. Time for bullet points.

Things I learned on my first
day in Myanmar:

The world's tiniest chairs
are the standard seating for street food vendors here.

It is true: there are no
motorcycles on the road in Yangon (inconceivable for a Southeast
Asian city).

People drive on the right
side of the road, but 80% of the vehicles have the steering wheel on
the right side.

Power outtages phase no one.
I was in a supermarket with another foreign teacher today when the
power went out in the store. It was the middle of the day, so there
was still plenty of ambient light to see by, but my companion didn't
even look up from the shelves. No one in the store even seemed to
notice that the power went out (it came back on in about 20
seconds).

Myanmar does not use coins
and stores just round up or down. It's all paper money here. The
smallest denomination is the 50 Kyat bill, about six cents. At said
supermarket, I bought a Sprite marked on the shelf at 380 Kyat. I
gave her a 500 Kyat bill and got 100 change. Thank you very much.
What the?

Later, at that same
supermarket, I bought something that was 870 Kyat, gave her a 1000,
and got 150 back. I guess it all balances out.

You have to haggle with the
taxi drivers here. There are no metered taxis.

Had two meals today. One
was Indian street food (very greasy and delicious), and the other
was at restaurant where the menu had no pictures and was all in
Burmese. The head waiter spoke very good English, and he suggested
fried chicken with vegetables. It was 100% Chinese-style stir-fried
chicken with vegetables. I'm sure the Burmese have their own
cuisine, but they also happen to border three countries (Thailand
being the third) with some of the best food in the world.

Homosexual sex is a crime
and punishable by up to ten years in prison (not something I learned
about first hand, but read in the English daily newspaper here).

They like to spit. There
are signs in the hallways of my school that say “No Spitting”.
At the restaurant, I noticed that underneath each table were small
bins with plastic liners. Spittoons.

Teaching adults who are
paying to be there is easier than teaching school children (I
observed a class today).

Burmese are far more
outgoing and direct than their Thai neighbors. Ten people asked me
where I was from today. Twice while driving about with a taxi
driver who was a little lost, he pulled over and yelled at a random
passer-by “HEY YOU! WHERE'S THIS PLACE?!”, whereas in Thailand,
it would be “Good day to you...(wai)... Would you mind, if you're
not too busy, please help me find this place if you know where it
is?”

The women here are gorgeous.

It's 11:34 PM as I sit here
and type this, but to my body, it feels like it is 12:04. Burma is
half an hour behind the Thai/Jakarta time zone. Like I said, they do
things their way here, and they're one of a handful of countries who
have eschewed the international norm of sharing the same minute
readings on their clocks. Myanmar is +9.5 hrs GMT. * In the cab on the way from the airport, I asked the Burmese lady from the school who was greeting me to please tell me some cultural stuff... Stuff I need to know as a foreigner here. She stressed the importance of patience. Things don't work the same way here as they do in the rest of the world, and if you let the frustration that might result from the bubble up in the form of being visually bothered by it, you'll create even more problems (my words, not hers).

* This blog was originally going to be called '15 Things..', but I found out as I tried to connect to Blogger and copy and paste it from Word, the internet here is indeed akin to dial up speeds from 20 years ago in the USA. I'm back to 2800 baud. Patience. Patience.

And on that note about time, I
will call it a night. Tomorrow, it's time to get up early and start
my apartment hunt.

That would work for me, but I thnk Dad would be very bothered by it. He wants evrything to be fast, NOW. I remember when I had an Italian boyfriend in Highschool. He always smelled a little like garlic. You are probably smelling the spice mixture in the foods the people eat. Could be worse.

Glad to hear the transition-travel is done, without major snags. A new country!.. Kool beans! So, I'm thinking if you don't get a job as a travel writer in your future -- if/when the teaching gigs are up -- then I'll be surprised ;-) 2800 bps on the internet.. yeowww! I remember my dad, circa 1994-ish, showing me this thing with his new hobby in computers. He showed me, "See, I can go through the phone line and tie into places that gives you information." (I think it was government libraries, etc.) and I remember he showed me this device called a "modem" that made it all happen ;-) and I think back then it had 2800bps written on it. Youzza.. that was state of the art! lol Great job and being resourceful and finding access so quickly though on your first day. Good luck in Myanmar!! John, Seattle